


The Memorial Service

by greglet



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 05:37:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6942004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greglet/pseuds/greglet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning of the Memorial Service after the events of The Vengeance in Into Darkness</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Memorial Service

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short snapshot into parts of the day of the memorial for those who died in the attacks of Khan and the Vengeance.

It was the briefest moment of calm before Leonard opened his eyes. Where none of that day’s schedule had been remembered, where he wasn’t quite aware of anything beside the comfort and warmth of his bed. His fingers stretched out first, followed by an inquisitive palm and a dip of his brows. Jim was gone and he couldn’t hear the shower going or any familiar footsteps wandering around.

It came back to him when he opened his eyes, the deep sense of grief and duty that lay on Leonard’s shoulders would be nothing compared to what Jim was carrying. It was later that afternoon that Jim was expected to give his heartfelt remarks on the lives lost in Earth’s most recent disaster. Leonard knew how much it was wearing on Jim - he knew how much Jim wanted to get the words right. Their quarters were filled with paper and scribbles since Jim started to complain that writing it on a PADD felt like part of the problem and not the solution. Taking it back to the basics is where Jim had found his path to the right speech. It might have taken a few attempts, Leonard noticed as his footsteps crunched when he got out of bed, but Jim had managed it in the end. As he always does. 

Leonard dressed in his non-regulations, not wanting to put the weight of the grey uniform on his shoulders just yet, especially not to try and face Jim with. And a glance to the end of his bed where two sets of shined, black, boots lay, told him Jim hadn’t put on his grey piece yet either. Leonard didn’t waste much time after that, not even to pick up some of the papers and PADDs lying about the floor and surfaces in his room; that could be dealt with later. Grabbing a pair of well loved boots to thump his feet into, he left with his communicator in his pocket and made his way straight to the other side of the bay. 

There was only one place Jim would be on a day like this. One with clear skies and a warmth hot enough to heat the sidewalks underfoot. However, it wasn’t the weather that brought Jim to a bench under a shady tree in the newest memorial park, but the view. It was one of the busiest crossroads in the city where throngs of beings wandered across when the almost constantly-gridlocked traffic slowed. It wasn’t all that long ago that the devastation in this exact square had reached a level unseen in recent terran history. The incident of USS Vengeance would not be forgotten for generations to come. The buildings around where Jim was now were hit first, almost decimating the entire area and thus, it was easier to clear the rubble and flatten it out for a green space than it was to build anything proper on the ground again. 

It wasn’t just devastating to the architecture, but the people in those buildings and not to mention the people on the ground who, if they were not taken out by the blast, the skidding ship, the falling buildings, they were hit by debris, taken by the fires that raged or even by their injuries or shock after the initial damage. Beyond that, Starfleet was now dealing with independent inquests left, right and centre - Jim Kirk being at the heart of a vast majority - while the media fed on every mistake they could find and expose. 

Leonard came to sit beside Jim and placed a warm hand on his thigh with a cautious ‘Just me, jim,’ so as not to give him a start. His leg slid into place heavy against Jim’s as Jim’s gaze went from Leonard’s hand on his thigh to back out to the busy street. 

“How long’ve you been here, Jim? I didn’t hear you leave.” His hazel gaze fell to the coffee cup in Jim’s hand, wondering if he had been holding onto it for hours or minutes. 

“Pretty early, but I walked in, so, I’ve not been here long.” Jim’s brow creased briefly as he turned to look up at Leonard. “How’d you know where to get me?”

“You think you’re more mysterious than you are.” Leonard answered with a smirk that Jim vaguely mirrored as he thought about how he might just know Jim Kirk, and his thinking, a little too well. 

A gentle quiet settled over them as they listened to the passing voices of workers and shoppers, adults and kids, drivers and pedestrians. It was easy to see that Jim was stressed with his shoulders high and his legs tucked tight behind the other when Leonard usually has to tell him to stop splaying himself across any surface he sits on. There was something on his mind and considering the event they had later, there was no need to guess what was troubling him. Still, Leonard gave him space to approach it himself - he didn’t need to draw it out him. After a few more moments of city noise, Jim tilted his head and lifted a hand to point loosely at the crowds crossing in either direction at the roads.

“It must’ve looked like this, Bones.” Jim nodded his head toward the crossing. “Y’know, busy. They wouldn’t have had the time to run.” 

His few words had more depth in them that Leonard had wanted to hear. He slipped the still-warm coffee cup from Jim’s hand and took a sip, thinking about what direction to take what Jim said.

“Why are you doing this to yourself, Jim? You’re not responsible for any of this - no matter how those inquests make it sound.” Leonard handed him back his coffee and felt Jim shrug up against his side. 

“Maybe I could’ve-”

“Jim.” It was a warning. They had been over this before and Leonard had told him that it was behind them, but not to bring it up unless it was seriously necessary because any reminder that Jim had died on that ship was more than Leonard could handle. Jim sighed as he hooked his right index and middle finger around Leonard’s left ring and minimus. 

“I just mean…” Jim’s words failed him and instead of wrestling his thoughts to words, he dropped his head and rubbed a hand across a weary forehead. 

“I know,” Leonard soothed, squeezing Jim’s fingers in his. “But you listen here, you, or anyone else on our ship, could not have done a damn thing. It happened, it was awful, and we’re gonna make sure that today is used to remember what went wrong. Then, we’re gonna move forward, okay?” Jim was silent but he responded with a subtle squeeze of Leonard’s fingers which told him his words had only made a small impact on Jim. “And I’ll be sitting right in front of ya, so will the rest of the crew. You’re not doing this alone.” 

As Jim’s hand slipped fully into Leonard’s, he knew he had got his message across. 

#

The rest of their morning had been quiet and contemplative. There had been no extensive conversations but many comforting glances and touches as they had made their way back to their temporary accommodation at the academy. Neither of them were in a particular rush and the easy breeze coming from the bay was washing away uncertainties, worries and hesitations of that afternoons memorial. By the time they had made it back to their room, Jim’s shoulders were down and he had an air of determination aimed to do right by those that lost their lives in Starfleet's blind eye. 

While Leonard pottered about the room trying to make himself useful and keep his hands busy for the hour before he needed to start getting ready, Jim had found a calm spot on their bed to read over his speech. Eventually Leonard’s pacing had broken Jim’s concentration.

“Bones, you’re gonna wear a hole in the floor.” Patting the space beside him, Leonard gave up his hunt for production and sat crossed legged beside Jim, resting his hand over the nape of Jim’s neck and glancing at his speech.

“That’s really touching, Jim.” Even from his skim of the top ten or so lines, Leonard could tell it would be one to have the grievers feeling comforted and supported while keeping Starfleet and the media off his back for a while. 

“You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Jim, it’s perfect, you say that later and you’ll have done more than enough for every grieving family there.” Leaning over, Leonard pressed a kiss to Jim’s temple as his thumb stroked behind his ear. “You’re gonna be fine.” 

#

Looking into his closet after he had pushed all his usual blues to the far left, he couldn’t help but sigh as his eyes fell on the strict grey piece with his adornments on the shoulder with pity. This uniform was only ever worn in the grimmest of circumstances and as he slipped it on he could feel the weight of every funeral, every grieving family and every after-death commendation it had ever seen. He was alone in the room now that Jim had left early to get his directions from higher ups and Leonard was glad for it. It wasn’t as if Leonard was only putting on a brave face for Jim while he was about, in fact, Leonard often leeched Jim’s energy during these times. He was glad he was himself because Jim didn’t deserve to see Leonard looking so heartbroken - especially not over something he had told Jim was behind them. 

While Leonard knew that today was for mourning those who died due to Khan and Carol Marcus’ admiral father, it was also a day that _could’ve_ been used for mourning Jim Kirk. Now, once a year, when the sun is bright and warm on the bay, the people of San Francisco will stand to remember the those who really died, while Leonard, most likely light years away in the pitch black, will sit in his polarised office and be encased in a mix of grief and relief over how close he was to losing Jim. 

He had dealt with this with Jim. They had had a blowout and Leonard shed his pent up grief on the floor and then in Jim’s arms. He had had a few unofficial therapy sessions with counselling staff who were seeing to him as a friend first - but their official capacity hadn’t escaped their conversations. But now there was a whole day dedicated to ‘The Events’ of the fall of the USS Vengeance. The retelling of which does not miss the almost-fall of the USS Enterprise which is what hurt Leonard most. 

“Computer, time?” Leonard asked the ever-present computer in the room and sighed when he found he only had half an hour before it all started. He moved to the mirror to pull his uniform taut and straight before he tried to wipe the sorrow that had grasped him so tightly from his face. He shut out the memories that tried to weed their way into the forefront of his mind - the lifelessness in Jim’s usually vicious blue eyes, the coldness of his skin and the blue of his lips - as he straightened his cap and left the room.

#

As Jim walked to the podium, Leonard felt a great sense of love swell in his chest. Jim who had fought humans, super-humans and Romulans and somehow won every time while putting up with a whole crew aboard a ship, as well as the crushing shadow he put himself in of his father - Jim Kirk was carrying loads from every direction and he still managed to wake up every day and keep going. He was a constant source of inspiration who somehow had an unending empathic air surrounding him that others ate up when needed. Except from being the only present Captain from the event and a continuous standard of ‘good’ in Starfleet, it was easy to see why Jim was picked for speeches. He was a public speaker at heart since every word had meaning, every word was true, genuine and poignant. Jim was a fountain of talent, understanding and productivity and despite still being so young, Jim had every crew member, every grieving family, standing in solidarity to continue forward in the memory of their loved ones. As Leonard stood he couldn’t help feel that while he did not know anyone personally who had died on the streets, he could understand their pain. When the time came to read out the names of the crew who had died, as well as those on the streets, Leonard tried not to think of Jim as his almost ‘perished loved one’ in their moment of silence. Leonard recognised that in this crowd he was lucky. He was lucky beyond any of the hopes these family could’ve had, especially since Jim’s name was not on this list. Leonard was lucky he got Jim back - much to his simple refusal to accept him as gone. These families, however, didn’t have that luxury, hope or chance and as Jim’s voice signified the end of their silence and the memorial service, Leonard wiped at a spilling tear for them. 

#

**Author's Note:**

> might add a bit to the end later. maybe.


End file.
